Remembrance
by wolf of infinity
Summary: It's been nine years since the 9/11 attacks, and this is my take on how America spends the day. Short, sad one-shot, including Matthew and Alfred brotherly love  not yaoi . Humans named used.


_It's nine years since the 9/11 attacks, and this is my take on how America spends the day. This is NOT a Canada x America fic, simply brotherly love. And Alfred might seem out of character, but I really think it is in a believable way. Human names used. I hope you like it!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia – Axis Powers, or any of its characters._

oOo

The autumn sun was setting in the distance, casting the world in a warm, gentle light, and everything seemed calm. In the streets, people rushed about to do their usual activities, chatting and laughing amongst each other, or simply hurrying on their path in silence.

Matthew Williams walked down the street with determined steps, his face calm yet grim as he got closer to the location he was headed for. People paid no attention to the quiet man, unaware of his status as a nation, and his mission on this specific day. He was fine that way, and didn't care much about the people passing him either.

Eventually, he reached his destination, pausing a bit outside the gate before entering and searching with his gaze across the yard. Despite having seen this before, the sight still made his heart ache in his chest, and his soft, blue eyes saddened. The yard was very big, and in front of over thousand – maybe even two thousand – of the grave stones, lay a single carnation and a light, flickering warmly. It was a really powerful sight. Many of the graves had several other flowers and lights on this day, but it was that single carnation that always brought tears to Matthew's eyes.

It seemed most of the families and mourning people had gone home for the day, but Matthew searched across the yard for that one figure he knew would be here still. Walking down the path, he spotted him, currently laying the last carnation in front of a grave and lighting the light he'd put there before standing.

The man's head was bowed where he stood, dressed in a black suit, his blonde hair neater than it usually was, and his back seeming more hunched and tired than usual. Matthew had to swallow heavily before walking over, coming to stand beside him. No words were exchanged at first, as Matthew took hold of his brother's hand, clutching it compassionately. Alfred turned to him and gave a weak, broken smile.

"To think it's been nine years already..." the usually cheerful man murmured quietly. He heaved a small, shaky sigh, and his blue eyes shone with unshed tears. He seemed so pale and tired, and Matthew wished there was something he could have done to make this easier for his brother. Nine years was nothing compared to the centuries America had existed, and he knew that the wounds on Alfred's soul would need a lot of time to heal.

"I can still feel it... I hear their cries at night, and their pain... God, Matthew, it hurts...!" Alfred looked somewhat like a broken child, in Matthew's eyes. The obnoxious, loud and happy-go-lucky, self-proclaimed hero had been replaced by a man worn and weary by the death of thousands of his people. Yet, he didn't crumble under the weight. Every single year on this day, he would visit every grave, never forgetting even one of them.

Alfred, despite his seemingly carefree and oblivious personality, knew and remembered the face of every single one of his people, no matter what background they had, or what kind of people they were. Every one of them were his friends, his family, his children, and every death left a new wound in his big heart.

Matthew really admired his brother's absolute and infinite devotion.

How many nations would face pain and fear and spend an entire day putting flowers and lights on nearly three thousand graves? Not many. In fact, he couldn't picture anyone doing so, except his brother. He could have let the mourning people do it, as most graves already had flowers and lights – but no, he took the time to visit _every _single one. He visited those who were well-maintained and regularly visited, and he visited the ones that hardly got any attention at all.

A strangled sob escaped Alfred's lips, his body trembling, and Matthew didn't hesitate. Pulling his brother into a warm, comforting embrace, he let Alfred cry into his shoulder, letting his stoic mask fall.

"It's okay, Alfred... Just let it out," he whispered soothingly, holding his twin tightly, as he would a helpless, lost child. "Just let it out..."

And Matthew knew that the next day, Alfred's smile would be back on his face, and his back would be strong as he willed himself to face the world's problems with a strong, unwavering heart and a dose of optimism.

oOo

_I would really appreciate it if you could leave me a review telling me what you thought about it ^^ _

_And, in case you were wondering, I use carnations in this story because they represent love and affection, and are often used in funerals and such. If you don't believe that Alfred has the ability to be as thoughtful as to care about meanings of flowers; then whatever. They're pretty flowers anyway._


End file.
